


Second Chance

by Lobotomite



Series: Second Chance [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship, and also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17161901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobotomite/pseuds/Lobotomite
Summary: Jasmine has been away from Emmerdale for a long, long time, and now she's coming back.





	Second Chance

It's been... well. It's been a very, very long time. 

She should have come back a long time ago, she knows that. To this day, the guilt over not being there for Ashley at the end of his life eats away at her. It's just so, so hard, to face everyone - to see how they've all moved on. To see how complete their lives are without her. And it only ever got harder, the longer she was away, the more she knew that her absence would now be thoroughly normal in that little village. And then, when she should have taken the push to grit her teeth and move past it, it had been even scarier to think of coming back to a village of strangers just to deal with one of the few people that still cared about her turning into a stranger in front of her eyes.

It was selfish. She knows that, even though she tried to bury it in reasonable sounding excuses - she didn't want to leave her job without knowing she would be able to find another one near Emmerdale, and anyway she was making progress and moving up and she didn't want to jeopardise that by just quitting. She didn't want to expect Laurel to put her up and pile another burden onto her. She didn't want to make Gabby play nice and share the limited time her father had left with someone who'd been out of his life for years and who she doesn't even really know. None of that was false, but they weren't the real reasons she stayed away, either.

In the end, her decision to finally leave her shit-hole of a life is just as selfish as her reasons for clinging to it. The apartment is littered with empty space where Alyssa's things had been, the decently-paying office job she'd been beyond lucky to get leaves her exhausted and unfulfilled, her friends are acquaintances she goes out drinking with on the weekend but can't ever really talk to, and she has to admit that she can't do this anymore or break completely. 

The reason she decides to crawl back to Emmerdale with her tail between her legs - it's Debbie. It's always been Debbie, hasn't it? Nobody else has ever come close, and as she's curled up in an empty apartment, crying and exhausted and lonely, she finally admits to herself that she's never going to stop thinking about what could have been - what her traitorous mind insists still could be.

She has Laurel there, too, and little Gabby, who must be close to grown by now, and surely at least some of the people she knew are still milling around and getting into trouble. Even if Debbie wants nothing to do with her, as she suspects is the case, she can prove that to herself once and for all and be around properly friendly faces again. She's really going to do this, she realises slowly, sobs slowing into soft, shaky breaths. She's already planning her resignation letter in her head, thinking of how to ask Laurel to let her stay. She's really going to go back. So she wipes at her face, cracks open the good wine her and Alyssa had been saving for a special occasion, and gets herself thoroughly drunk to say goodbye to this empty little apartment and empty little life.  

\----

Even with the roaring hangover she has to power through the next day, she feels lighter than she has in a long, long time. She's got her resignation letter written up by mid-afternoon - she knows she should give proper notice, but now that she's made the decision she's itching to get out, and she's hardly a cornerstone of the office - they're barely going to even notice she's gone, let alone struggle without her. The apartment she can come back up and deal with if she needs to, so that's not a priority - the only real thing left to do is actually let Laurel know of her intentions. She half wishes she hadn't binged the night before so she could have a little drink for courage, but even looking at the empty wine bottle on the counter sets her stomach churning, so she takes a deep breath and calls before she can chicken out of it. She still has to fight not to hang up as the ring tone spills from her phone's crappy speakers and almost feels disappointed when she loses her chance.

"Jasmine!" The surprise in Laurel's voice sends another familiar shock of guilt through her, and she clears her throat uncomfortably. 

"Hey, Laurel. How are you?" 

"Good, good! Dottie's a handful, you know, as always, but she's lovely, really. She's a right little chatterbox- you should come visit, see her." She always offers, but this is the first time Jasmine doesn't have an excuse or a vague, untrue promise already at her lips. 

"Well - about that. I was.... I was actually thinking about coming down and staying for a bit. If you'll have me, of course," she rushes to add, half hoping Laurel will stammer out an excuse and give her a reason not to force herself down there. But when she speaks again after a startled beat, she sounds pleased.

"Of course! Oh, that's great, Jasmine, it'll be lovely to see you! The spare room's a bit of a mess right now, but it won't be any trouble to tidy it up a bit. How long will you be down?"

"Uh... indefinitely?" She winces at the high pitched, questioning way that comes out but soldiers on. "I mean... not indefinitely at your's, of course, just until I can find a place of my own down there." There's a few more beats of silence, and she starts seriously regretting her decision - of course Laurel has just been being polite by keeping in contact, of course she doesn't want Jasmine to come back, not properly, she doesn't even really have anything at all tying her and Jasmine together at all now that Ashley's gone - but she doesn't have time to blurt out an apology and hang up before Laurel finally speaks again.

"It'll be lovely to have you back, Jasmine," she says slowly, carefully, and Jasmine winces preemptively at the 'but' she knows is coming. "But... Are you okay? are you in trouble?"

"No," Jasmine says emphatically. "No, I'm not in trouble, nothing like that. I just... I'm just not happy here," she confesses, voice wobbling embarrassingly. 

"Then it'll be lovely to have you for as long as you need, Jasmine," Laurel says, voice so warm that Jasmine thinks she might not even be lying. 

\----

Once the decision had been made, everything moved faster than anything else had since she settled down here. Her resignation is accepted without fanfare, she smiles and nods through promises to keep in touch that she knows won't be followed through with, and then she's passing that old, familiar sign and heading into Emmerdale with what possessions she could fit into her car.

Laurel is just as warm to her in person as she has been over the phone, bustling her inside and helping her cart her meager belongings into her temporary room. It's getting on in the day by the time she gets there, and Laurel admittedly bears the brunt of keeping up conversation that night, little Arthur peering at her silent and shy across the table and Jasmine a bit overwhelmed at being back. It shouldn't be surprising how little everything has changed, but it is; the old houses are all there, the streets the same, and it makes the things that have changed - houses tidied up or gone a bit ramshackle, different shops at the side of the road - all the more shocking. 

Arthur might be shy and reluctant to talk, and Gabby seems to have hit that point of teenagehood where her phone is infinitely more interesting than her estranged older cousin, but Dottie certainly doesn't share their reticence - she keeps up an incomprehensible running commentary through dinner in between messy mouthfuls of food. It's uncomfortable and awkward and she fumbles her way through the meal and cleanup and a few hours of TV curled up on the couch with Laurel - but it's also nice, so nice, to be in a house so alive. 

She mainly stays indoors, the first few days after she gets there. She knows she should be looking to get a job and a proper place to stay as soon as possible, but Laurel assures her she's fine spending a few days settling in first, so she does. She has to admit, there's a large part of her that's still nervous about the idea of actually reintegrating into Emmerdale; everyone she's met so far on her occasional forays out with Laurel has been perfectly nice, acting appropriately pleased to see her if they'd known her before and welcoming if they hadn't. She knows Emmerdale, though, even if she's not at home in this version of it, and she knows everyone is going to know all the gossip within days. She's already enjoying the inherent closeness of the little village, a welcome change from the lonely anonymity of the city, but it is an adjustment. 

Still, she can't lurk in Laurel's home forever, so when she suggests going down to the Woolpack for dinner and some drinks Jasmine makes herself accept. Arthur joins them, having warmed up to Jasmine over her stay - he's a cute kid, full of things to say now that he's gotten over the initial shyness. She's actually having a good time, relaxing into the different but familiar atmosphere of the Woolly. And then the door swings open and Debbie walks in.

What hits her like a punch in the gut is how clear it is that Debbie is as good as a stranger to her now. She doesn't know this woman, not like she knew the girl she was; she doesn't know what she's been through, doesn't know what she likes, what she hates, what she wants.

She knows some things, of course; she's not been very good at keeping in touch, but she hasn't maintained complete radio silence, and gossip about Debbie always manages to leak it's way into those occasional conversations. She's very careful about not bringing her up in any way, but Laurel mentions her sometimes. She's not sure if it's her way of trying to entice Jasmine back or if she's kindly giving her the information she wants to know but can't ask for, or even if it's just that Debbie is inherently more likely to be involved in drama than most of the village - whatever the reason, she clings tight to the little morsels of information that filter their way through to her even as she knows she shouldn't - that she doesn't deserve to know, if she can't brave rejection long enough to find out for herself.

She knows about Jack. She knows about all of the biggest developments with poor little Sarah. She knows about the revolving procession of men and wants to shake them by the neck and demand an explanation when those relationships invariably end.

But she doesn't know enough - she doesn't know what Debbie has felt about any of it, she doesn't know what Debbie is into, hell, she doesn't even know if Debbie still likes her tea the same way as she had when they were together. And that lack of knowledge has rankled and hurt since the last day she say Debbie, but it hasn't ever felt as large as it does that day, making eye contact with her across the crowded pub and being almost completely unfamiliar with the woman staring back at her.

She knows who it is immediately, of course; time might have dulled her memory, but there's no mistaking those striking cheekbones, that long straight hair, the way she still keeps her lips pressed into a slight frown as if telling the world how sick of it's shit she is. But this isn't the Debbie she left behind. This Debbie is a grown woman, this Debbie has perfected her uncaring mask and holds herself high - this Debbie scrutinises her, and Jasmine only gets a second to see her eyes widen in recognition before her face shutters closed again and she stalks right past and up to the counter.

"I, um, I didn't let any of that lot know you were coming. It was a bit last minute and I didn't know if you'd want me to so I just - I thought, well, it's not really their business, is it," Laurel says after a few moments, carefully not mentioning Debbie by name. As if it was the Dingles as a whole Jasmine came back for and not one in particular.

"It's okay," Jasmine lies, forcing a smile. "I didn't expect her to be happy I'm back. I just hope I don't make things awkward for anyone." 

That wasn't a lie - not fully. She never did expect Debbie to be happy to see her again. Hoped for, yes; she's spent many nights fantasising about some rapturous reunion, of coming back to Emmerdale and Debbie bursting into delighted tears and embracing her. Even a smile would have had her beside herself with joy. But coldly ignoring her - that was the best she really expected. At least that was indifference, rather than anger. 

It shakes her right out of the comfort she'd settled into, though, and she finds herself unable to focus, letting Laurel and Arthur fill the silence while her eyes are drawn to Debbie like a magnet. She's leaning on the counter, talking to Charity, and she doesn't face Jasmine's direction even once, although Jasmine catches Charity casting sharp glances at her from time to time. She tells herself she's okay with being ignored, that she didn't expect anything different and shouldn't hope for it. 

But when Debbie leaves the counter and heads in the direction of the toilets, Jasmine pushes out from the table despite herself and hurrying after her, ignoring the sympathetic look Laurel gives her. 

She doesn't even know what she wants to say, just that she needs to see her, to talk to her. She figures that she'll know what to say once she's there, but when she pushes open the door and is faced with Debbie's unsurprised, closed off face, her breath catches in her throat and she just stares in dumb silence. 

"Jasmine," Debbie acknowledges, voice so even and flat she must be making an effort at it. "You really are back, then."

"Yeah," Jasmine says weakly. She knows she should follow that up with something, anything, but anything she could think of to say withers under that cold stare. 

"Well I hope you enjoy your little holiday," Debbie says, and Jasmine's heart shudders.

"You've changed," she says quietly, and the line of Debbie's mouth thins even more. 

"I've grown up," she retorts, cool and aloof. Jasmine realises with a sick twist in her stomach that she has no idea if that coldness is genuine or a mask. 

There was a time she would have known effortlessly. There was a time - a fleeting, rapturous moment in time, despite everything happening around them - when Debbie wouldn't have bothered with a mask at all. Not around her. 

She knew from the start how painful coming back would be, but it in the way you know fire is hot. It's one thing to know, another thing entirely to shove your hand into the flames and burn. And standing here, having someone she once loved so desperately - someone she's spent years trying and failed to move on from - treat her like an unwelcome acquaintance... it burns.

"I guess we all have," she manages, forcing herself to look into the eyes of this beloved stranger staring back at her. 

"Why are you here, Jasmine!?" Debbies snaps suddenly, mask slipping a bit and revealing… she can't tell, anymore. Frustration, maybe. Anger. 

For you, she wants to say, but the words stick in her throat. She's tried to convince herself of it, but it's not true, is it. She's not here for Debbie. She's here for herself.

"I don't know," she says truthfully, after a pause. "I don't know, Debbie, I don't. I was... I was stuck, I was in a rut, nothing has ever been right since I got out and I just. Being with you is the only time I've ever been truly happy." Her voice is a hoarse whisper by the time she stops, almost tremulous in anticipation of rejection, but Debbie just shakes her head helplessly, mouth twisting unhappily. 

"You never came back. Never even called. Why should I care, now, that you're unhappy? I've been- you weren't there for me. Not even when you could have been."

"I know," Jasmine says, guilt gripping her chest tight. "I know, and I should have been. But I was... I was scared, and I didn't want to make things worse, and I didn't want to come back and find out you'd forgotten me and didn't care to see me. I'm sorry, I am, and I don't expect you to forgive me but... but you could give me a chance, maybe. To make it up to you. I don't expect to get back what we had, but... before anything, you were my best friend. I'd like to get my friend back, at least." 

Jasmine's heart is pounding, her mouth bone-dry with nerves. She hadn't meant to be so open, so raw, but she doesn't regret it. Even if Debbie shoots her down in flames, she at the very least deserves the truth from Jasmine. 

But she doesn't. She takes a deep, steadying breath, looking away from Jasmine, and when she looks back the mask is back up - but it's calmer, less hostile.

"I have to go. But - if you're serious... I have some time free tomorrow. Midday. Meet me back here and... we'll see."

"Great," Jasmine says, head bobbing up and down. "I'll be here."

Debbie grunts, eyeing her like she's considering changing her mind - and then sweeps past her without a goodbye and Jasmine is alone.

It could have gone better. Debbie obviously isn't going to welcome Jasmine back into her life with open arms. But she's giving her a chance, and Jasmine isn't going to let herself fuck this up again.


End file.
